


The Real Punchline

by blindgumby (walkydeads)



Series: Some Stupid Cosmic Joke [2]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Blowjobs, Confident Glenn, Frottage, Grinding, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Characters With Personalities!, Non-Penetrative Sex, Racism, Shy Daryl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 07:58:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2101755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkydeads/pseuds/blindgumby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl and Glenn resolve some things that were left open-ended before the apocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Real Punchline

It’s been about a month since he and Merle arrived at camp, and he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for Shane to decide Merle’s behavior is intolerable (like everyone else does eventually) yes, but more importantly, he’s waiting for world to get around that the big mean redneck’s quiet younger brother is queer. It drips with irony that someone who throws around slurs would have someone to hate right under his nose and never realize it.

But the whispers and the gossip never come. Daryl’s not sure why; Glenn has no reason to keep his secret. He doesn’t seem to be keeping his own, at any rate. The whispers follow him, although not very far. He’s too useful to be discriminated against outright, running into an infested city for supplies when half the others won’t even leave the perimeter to take a piss. Even Merle has some degree of respect for him, despite grumbling that his ‘faggot ass’ better keep his distance. Daryl’s secretly glad that no one else has the balls to say anything outright because he’s not so sure he wouldn’t jump to Glenn’s defense if anyone else said anything, and then he’d have a lot of explaining to do…

One night, as Daryl’s sitting by the fire tending to his crossbow, he overhears Andrea and T-dog talking. They tend to avoid him like most everyone else, assuming he’d be as rude or rowdy as his brother if confronted, and maybe correctly so depending on the subject. Nonetheless, he doesn’t consider what he’s doing eavesdropping. It’s important to know what the rest of the camp is thinking, how close they are to kicking them out. It’s in his own best interest, he tells himself. They talk low, but he can hear them, and what he hears makes his heart clench up with worry.

“Jaqui’s got him for now. The night terrors are really bad some nights, I can hear him from my tent. Keeps calling out for his boyfriend,” T-dog says sadly, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Jaqui said one of her nieces would have nightmares like that all the time. It’s a form of anxiety or something. She can calm him down better than I can.”

“You were there when it happened, right? It was bad, huh?” Andrea asked, wiping her hands absentmindedly on her pants.

T-dog nods, “That was… If I coulda got there sooner, they’d both be here now. They were so close to the bridge outta town and things were so bad… if I had to go back to help ‘m I might not have. Walkers broke the passenger window to Glenn’s car but the other dude was holding them off pretty alright. Glenn got out and was reaching for the guy and got him about halfway out before the bite. And of course, the guy started freaking out, screaming and holding his arm, making a scene, drawing more in.”

“Jesus,” Andrea comments quietly.

“Yeah. First one went for Glenn after that and I shot it in the head but it was too late for the other guy. A pack of em came out of nowhere, tore him to pieces. It was all I could do to get Glenn out of there, towards the road out. We just kept running. That was it. He never talks about him, but it’s almost the same thing every night. Screams out for him like he did that day.”

“I can’t even imagine,” Andrea says, “Amy and I were so lucky… we saw the dead but we didn’t actually see anyone get taken like that.”

“It ain’t pretty,” T-dog intones with a sigh, kicking a bit of the gravel beneath his feet, “But he loses much more sleep and it’ll only get worse for him. For all of us. If he can’t make runs into the city we’re all as good as dead.”

“Well we still have that guy,” Andrea says, nodding in Daryl’s direction as he pretends not to notice, “I’m sure he’s not a delight to be around or anything but he brings in stuff to eat pretty steadily. Amy and I can start fishing, too. It sounds to me like Glenn’s more than earned having a little of that responsibility taken off his shoulders.”

Daryl’s capping the wax he uses for his bow string when Andrea passes by. He doesn’t mean to say anything, but he can’t help it. He’s worried, loath as he is to admit it. “Scuse me, ma’am?”

She stops in her tracks, looking a little irritated at being called ‘ma’am’. Or maybe by being talked to by the likes of him at all. But once she actually meets his eyes, she deflates a little, her posture relaxing, “Yeah, Dixon?”

“I overheard a bit of what ya’ll were saying. That Chinese kid… is he gonna be alright?”

Andrea’s face twitches like she’s somewhere between lecturing him for something and laughing in his face. Daryl doesn’t like it, but he keeps that to himself. She’s probably just taken aback by the fact that he’s not calling her ‘sugartits’ and that he’s somewhat eloquent, much unlike the other half of the Dixon Duo. Even though it’s mildly insulting, he likes surprising people with his different nature.

With a sigh, Andrea sits near him, still at a safe distance, “He probably needs some rest is all. This isn’t easy for anybody, and he already does so much… He lost a lot more than most of us, too. Showed up all by himself, doesn’t know where anybody he cares about is… you and I, we’ve got siblings. T-dog and Jaqui lived in the same neighborhood and he’d carry groceries for her sometimes. Shane, Lori and Carl are pretty much a family, and the Peletiers and Morales’ and the others. Really, Glenn and Dale and Jim are the only people here without anyone, and Dale kind of has us, and Jim doesn’t seem to wanna think about whoever he had before all of this, so he… Glenn’s really alone. But he does more than any of us. I think it just weighs on him is all. Sometimes it’s too much.”

Daryl nods, trying to look deep in thought, though the second he heard that Glenn was hurting like he was, he immediately wanted to help somehow. “I could probably go on a couple runs until he gets better.”

Looking even more surprised than before, Andrea’s mouth twitches into a half smile, “I think he’d appreciate the sentiment. But it’s just that it’s really dangerous,” she pauses, holding up a hand to keep him from objecting that he was plenty tough enough, and said, “It’s not that I think you can’t do it. It’s just that the streets can be hard to navigate and Glenn has the whole place mapped out. You could think you’re safe and then walk straight into a horde.”

“Maybe he could draw me a map or tell me what the safest areas are? I’m just tryin’ to help.” He curses himself inwardly, knowing he sounds more confrontational and surly than he means to. But the damage is done, and what little patience Andrea has for him is gone. She stands and sighs, dusting her ass off and watching him to make sure his gaze didn’t drift to it.

“I guess you should ask him, then. But if he says he thinks it’s too dangerous, I’d listen if I were you. You’re a good hunter and we would hate to lose you.”  
Daryl shrugs, appreciating that someone notices he and his brother aren’t just some drunk, useless hicks, “What the kid does is more useful than shootin’ squirrels. I just don’t want everyone to feel like things are starting to run scarce. People get jumpy and selfish when they think they’re runnin’ out of stuff.”

“I know what you mean,” Andrea nods, although she clearly doesn’t, “I’m sure Glenn’s still up if you wanna talk to him. Me and Amy are gonna see about borrowing Dale’s canoe and doing a little fishing, so I gotta get some sleep.”

Daryl nods by way of valediction and Andrea thankfully doesn’t say anything else, looking behind herself every few steps as she retreats to the camper quietly. She still looks a little stunned by his sudden interest in the wellbeing of the other members of the camp. He doesn’t really blame her; he’s a little stunned himself. Part of him wishes he’d have just kept his damn mouth shut, but it’s too late to do anything but try now. He knows Andrea’ll look into it and think less of him if his words ended up being empty bravado. It bothers him, though he’s not sure why. Normally he could give a fuck less what some prissy rich bitch thought of him.

By process of elimination, Daryl figures out what tent is Glenn’s, and it takes him another five minutes to work up the nerve to approach it. He’s never actually visited with anyone since they set up camp here, and it’s stupid that he doesn’t know if he should knock or just poke at the tent flaps or call out to him or what. Luckily, Glenn sees his shadow lurking and says, “Anybody out there?”

It takes Daryl another couple seconds to get up the nerve to speak. He clears his throat and says, “It’s jus’ me, kid.”

He hears Glenn curse under his breath and it stings a bit, even though he can’t blame him. After a few seconds, Jaqui opens the tent before going back to sit in front of a kettle, which Daryl realizes is on top of a hot plate. “I’m makin’ him some tea,” Jaqui says lightly, “Helps him sleep. You want some?”

“What kind is it? I don’t drink that funky Asian green shit,” Daryl says, wincing even as the words come out. He half expects these people to find those types of remarks funny, like his brother does. It’s almost instinctive to just say rude shit.

Somehow, Jaqui realizes this and gives him a terse smile, “Just chamomile. He found some boxes of tea last time he ran into town. It’s a little bitter though, since we’re outta sugar for now.”

“I guess it couldn’t hurt to try it. If there’s enough I mean,” Daryl clarifies, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “Uh… you know, thanks and all.”

“Sure,” she shrugs, “I was making enough for three or four people anyway. Better to not let it go to waste.”

Glenn’s stooped over on his sleeping bag, not really looking at Daryl. His forehead is beaded with sweat and the dark circles under his eyes prove everything T-dog and Andrea were saying earlier, which worries Daryl further. He hoped they had been embellishing the facts a bit, but the kid looked every bit as messed up and worn down as they had claimed he was.

After a moment, Daryl awkwardly lets himself down onto the ground, sitting with his legs crossed, wringing his hands in his lap. He’s trying to think of the right thing to say, unsure if showing concern for Glenn will help his cause or only make Glenn even more closed off and distant.

“Glenn,” he says finally, quietly.

“What’s up?” Glenn replies, feigning casualness. His shoulders are still trembling a bit and Daryl desperately wants to reach forward and hold him still. He’d forfeit just about anything to get that right at this point.

“You’re supposed to go on a run tomorrow, right?” He asks, conversationally, “Cause I was thinkin’… I had a pretty good hunt last time and Amy and Andrea are fishin’ tomorrow, so I probably won’t need to go again for a couple days. And I just been thinkin’ maybe it’d be good if I went on the run tomorrow. I think it’s important for more than one of us to get a lay of the land, you know. I’m good in the forests, I’d probably be good in the cities, too. I’m pretty aware of my surroundings and stuff.”

Glenn raises an eyebrow, “You’re saying… you wanna go with me?”

“Not exactly. I think you and me both do better on our own. I was hoping you could draw me a map, tell me where to go with the least risk, that kind of thing,” Daryl said sheepishly, hoping Glenn wouldn’t take this as a rude gesture or some kinda insult.

“No,” Glenn said, almost immediately, “Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous. The hordes are too unpredictable. I’m not throwing someone else under the bus so I can kick back and relax.”

“Hold on, honey,” Jaqui interjected, now pouring the tea into pilfered styrofoam cups, “He’s got a point. I know it’s hard to talk about, but more than one person needs to know their way around in case anything ever happens to you.”

“So he can come with me. But he’s not going alone. I came way too close to dying the first few times and I’m not putting that risk on someone else knowingly. I can show him better than tell him anyway,” Glenn adds quietly, “It’s easy to just say ‘stay between 15th and the Peachtree Center’, but there’re so many back alleys and cleared buildings that make the trip easier that I can’t explain exactly.”

“I don’t want you wearin’ yourself out when you don’t have to, dammit!”

The silence that takes over the tent is damn near deafening, Jaqui looking between the two of them before handing them each a styrofoam cup and standing up. “Well, I think ya’ll got some talking to do,” she says lightly, dusting her hands on her thighs before picking up her own cup, “I’m gonna go get some shut eye. Wake me if you have any more trouble sleeping, sugar.”

“Thanks for the tea,” Glenn says weakly and Daryl nods in agreement. She just gives him a knowing smile as she ducks out of the tent, making his cheeks flush. Why the hell does everyone think they know what’s going on in his head?

“What was that about?” Glenn asks as soon as he assumes Jaqui is out of earshot.

“I just don’t wanna see you work yourself to death is all,” Daryl shrugged, staring into his tea, “I heard you been havin’ nightmares, not sleeping well. I don’t want you to get hurt cause you feel like you have to be on top of everything all the time.”

“Wouldn’t taking on twice the responsibility just do the same thing to you, though?” Glenn points out after taking a sip of tea. And wow, Daryl hadn’t even really considered that. It might do that to him, but that was irrelevant. Glenn was important to the group. Helping Glenn meant keeping him from dying. It meant staying on the group’s good side and keeping him and Merle from getting kicked out.

Instead of saying all that, he just shrugs.

“Look, Daryl, if you still feel bad for what happened before all this at the bar, well… you don’t have to. I understand. I mean, I’ve met your brother,” Glenn chuckles, “I know how hard it is to come out period, but with his temperament it’s gotta be about ten times worse.”

“I’m… I ain’t gay,” Daryl spits automatically, despite the fact that Glenn probably has more evidence than anyone else in the world to the contrary.

“Right,” Glenn says flatly, as if he doesn’t believe him, “Well, still. If this is a gesture to make up for what happened at the bar, it’s really not necessary. I’d talked to some guys   
online before and backed out on meeting them. I totally get that it’s scary, whatever it is you’re feeling. So it’s fine. If you actually wanna help it’s one thing, but I just… I don’t want you to feel bad for me. There’s nothing to feel bad for.”

“I heard T-dog talking about what happened when he found you,” Daryl says flatly, “About your boyfriend. ‘M sorry about that.”

Glenn downs the rest of his tea before tossing the styrofoam cup onto the ground, “You know what’s weird? He wasn’t even my boyfriend, really. I’d only been on like two dates with him. I just happened to be with him when all that shit went down. Seeing friends get killed, or people you love or care about… I get that. I get why it hurts. I get seeing strangers get killed being weird, too. But my feelings were lukewarm at best. It’s just weird to watch someone you barely know get torn apart like that. I don’t know,” The kid stares down at his hands and Daryl resists the temptation to reach out and take one of them in his own.

“I’m in the middle. No one else in this camp knows what that’s like. And it’s confusing. I can’t help but think that… you know, maybe if I cared more about him or something, I would’ve been quicker to get him out of there. If I had already loved him, maybe I could’ve saved him.”

“But you gotta know that’s not true. People here have lost loved ones. You think you have a choice or more time when you look back, but right in that moment you really don’t,” Daryl says, as gently as he can manage.

“How would you know?” Glenn says, and though there’s no bite in the way he says it, it still stings.

“Merle was in prison when this shit went down, for harassing some bartender at Applebee’s. I had to make some calls when everything happened. Decide whether I wanted to get him or not, decide what that would be worth,” he pauses, “And sometimes I feel like I made the wrong call. If I had looked around, I probably could’ve helped more people. Our camp could damn well be twice the size it is now.”

“Did you… did you say Applebee’s?”

Daryl blinks at him, “Is that really the only thing you took away from what I just said?”

“No, it’s just…” Glenn shook his head, “Brian was a bartender at Applebee’s. One of my friends found his number on an Applebee’s napkin in the parking lot outside the club that night. Decided he’d been stood up and wanted to go be nice to him, cheer him up. We traded numbers. I kinda waited for you to call for a couple days, but when you didn’t…” Glenn trails off and then shrugs.

“Shit,” Daryl says quietly, “So it’s my fault.”

“No, no! I wasn’t saying that at all,” Glenn contends, raising his hands in objection, “I just… it’s a weird coincidence.”

“That was my napkin ya’ll found, too,” Daryl says, shaking his head, “He’d given me his number when I asked him where the bar was. Merle’d given him hell and then stomped off ramblin’ about going to kick someone’s ass or something. I worried he was gonna target gays since the bartender… well, you know. So he told me where the bar was. And then I met you.”

“Then you met me,” Glenn agrees and then he’s laughing. Daryl’s not sure why; they’re talking about his dead date. But it’s infectious and soon Daryl’s joining in. Glenn doubles over, his head just inches from Daryl’s shoulder.

He pulls him in the rest of the way on an impulse.

Glenn’s laughter turns to sobs almost seamlessly and Daryl doesn’t really know how to comfort someone but he tries not to think about it, just falls silent and sort of rocks the poor kid. He’s got one hand slung around Glenn’s waist and the other running over his hair, petting him. It feels stupid, but he banishes the thought as Glenn shudders against him. He scoots closer and Glenn’s almost in his lap at this point, but it doesn’t really matter. He just really wants Glenn to stop crying.

“I’m sorry,” Glenn mumbles into his shirt, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“It’s okay,” Daryl says calmly, “We’re all a little fucked up these days if you ain’t noticed.”

It’s weird. He’s only kissed Glenn once, months ago and before all this shit went down. Hasn’t touched him - even accidentally - since. But having his arms around him feels normal. He feels like he already knows how Glenn breathes, how his heart beats, because feeling both now is a huge comfort to him. He just continues rocking the kid gently, not sure what he’s supposed to do now or if he’s even supposed to do anything.

“I missed you,” Glenn says.

That makes no sense because they’d previously known each other for maybe an hour, but Daryl gets it. It wasn’t so much what they’d learned about each other in the club as being around each other for weeks after that without being able to so much as acknowledge that they knew each other. Daryl had barely been able to contain his relief when he saw Glenn alive, and he was sure that hurt Glenn on some level as well. He missed him because they weren’t really able to reunite. There were too many obstacles and not enough time.

“I missed you too,” He says, pressing a kiss to the younger’s head.

Glenn tenses up at the contact, to the point Daryl’s worried he’s done something wrong. He’s about to apologize when Glenn looks up, and the expression on his face is anything but uncomfortable. “Can I kiss you again?”

This time, Daryl answers him with the press of his mouth. The angle is right, and Glenn’s mouth opens under his almost instantly, tongue tracing Daryl’s bottom lip before slipping into his mouth, a gesture Daryl isn’t familiar with but is all too happy to reciprocate. Glenn’s hands grasp uselessly at his shirt the way they did that night and Daryl feels his breath catch in his throat. This feels right. It’s the first thing to feel real in a long time. With Glenn’s mouth on his, he can almost imagine the smell of cigarette smoke, the thrumming bass in the background, the world in general being as it was before everything went to shit.

Glenn’s hands move to the button on his shirt - a pretty useless gesture considering it’s about three sizes too big and has the sleeves cut off and could easily just be pulled off - and starts undoing them with shaky hands. “Okay?”

Daryl nods, chasing his mouth and capturing it once again. He feels a hunger in him he didn’t even know he could feel. He wants Glenn to touch every part of him. And while it might be a bit rushed, it’s also fine. There’s not enough time left for them to slow down. He moves his hands to Glenn’s hips and outlines them with his thumbs, making the younger shudder, his fingertips brushing against the skin just under Glenn’s shirt. Glenn groans into his mouth.

Eventually, Glenn gets all the buttons on Daryl’s shirt undone, and when he slides it off, he feels some of the scars on Daryl’s back. Daryl winces, but Glenn doesn’t bring it up, just pulls his own shirt off. And he’s littered with scars of his own from his trips to the city. Daryl hadn’t realised how much Glenn had already put himself at risk and it hurts that he could’ve been too late at least a dozen times already.

The next few seconds are incredibly hazy, Glenn pulling him back in and the two of them kissing with even more haste than before, both of them discovering more of one another’s bodies with their hands and lips. When Daryl’s hand gropes Glenn’s ass, Glenn grinds against it, moving back and then forward. He’s pretty much really in Daryl’s lap now, and Daryl feels the younger’s thigh rub against his own hard dick. He stifles a moan against Glenn’s neck and keeps moving, his own hips coming up to meet the kid’s harshly, bruisingly.

“Oh… oh god, Daryl, I… fuck,” Glenn whispers against his mouth, shuddering as he releases with another series of suppressed grunts. He buries his face against Daryl’s neck to catch his breath as he continues to move against Daryl.

“C-can’t,” Daryl tries to assert in between breaths, “Can’t cum in my pants, I… these’re my only pair of jeans.”

“Here,” Glenn says, leaning back and working at the belt, “You know, I’ve never had the chance to suck a dick before. I kinda want to.”

“Please,” Daryl nods in agreement, and Glenn laughs.

The younger gets the fly of Daryl’s jeans undone fast, not bothering to hike his jeans down more than it takes to pull out his cock. He watches it twitch a moment, giving it a few idle strokes, “God Daryl,” he whispers, a wicked smile curling up the corners of his mouth, “It’s so thick, I might not be able to get it in my mouth.”

“Bullshit,” Daryl grunts good-naturedly, “You’ve got a big mouth. Always tellin’ someone off with it. Do something constructive for on— oh, shit!”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Glenn’s too busy catching him off guard by all but deep throating him all of a sudden. He jolts, trying to keep his hips from snapping up and choking the kid. “Shit,” he asserts again, letting his back hit the dirt, opening his legs wider. Shameful though it was, he wasn’t going to last long like this, but he didn’t really mind. Encouragemnt flew from his mouth, quiet phrases like ‘oh, that’s it,’ and ‘that’s so fucking good’. Glenn’s stroking the part of his cock his mouth can’t reach, and he’s drooling onto it enough to make the whole thing slick and tight and just… fuck.

Daryl tries to warn Glenn when he cums, he really does. His voice rises in pitch and his hips pick up off the ground again without control. Glenn eases back and braces his hips with his free arm, and Daryl hardly gets his name out before it comes, sudden and intense pleasure as he feels his release filling the mouth around him.  
Glenn spits into the dirt and Daryl grabs him by the chin, pulling him back up and kissing him. It’s less passionate before, full of a gratefulness Daryl can’t put into words. After just a few moments, their lips slow and they pause to catch their breath.

“I guess it was dumb of me to think you wanted nothing to do with me, huh?” Glenn asks wryly.

“Bout as dumb as it was for me to think I wanted nothing to do with you,”

Daryl nods as Glenn slides off of him, curling into his side and tucking him back into his pants.

“Stay,” Glenn begs, even though they both know it’s not a good idea. People saw Daryl go into Glenn’s tent and there will be talk if he doesn’t come out. Daryl surprises himself with how disappointed he is that he can’t. He makes a compromise.

“Til you fall asleep, okay?” He asks, “I feel like Jaqui kind of left me with that responsibility anyway. To see that you fell asleep alright.”

“Yeah,” Glenn nods, already yawning.

Glenn slides into his sleeping bag and Daryl lays on top of it. They just sort of stare at one another, Daryl afraid talking will just make Glenn lose more sleep and Glenn too drowsy to form full sentences. It doesn’t take him long to drift off, snoring softly into Daryl’s shoulder. Even then, Daryl savors the feeling of lying next to someone for a few more minutes before carefully extracting himself and leaving the tent. He can’t help but grin in the warm evening, under the stars. It’s not always going to be this simple or uncomplicated, he knows, but he also knows that life is too short now to worry too much about things that don’t directly involve survival.

He’ll have to face his brother eventually, as well as the rest of the camp. Especially if he ever actually wants to spend the night in Glenn’s tent. But he knows better than to put too much pressure on things. For now, he just appreciates that he and Glenn somehow came back together, that they somehow sorted out all the awkward shit between the two of them. That his feelings are returned. It’s weird how before the end of the world, this would all be so much more complicated, but now he just takes comfort in it being the smallest and most rewarding of his problems.

That, he decides, must be the real punchline to all of this.


End file.
